


You Did A Number On Me, But Who’s Counting?

by wayward_sherlock



Series: Highway To Heaven [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Humor, Character Death, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dark Humor, Dissociation, Dyslexic Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Happy ending (?), Heavy Angst, Illegal Activities, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, Kidnapping, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Sexual Tension, Sorry guys, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, bum bum bummmm, honestly A+ parenting all around, intense making out, parental pressures, these tags are making this story sound a lot worse than it is, throw a gold star in there too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_sherlock/pseuds/wayward_sherlock
Summary: Castiel blinked once, twice before everything cleared up and he locked eyes in the rearview mirror with a pair of the greenest irises he had ever seen.Naomi had blue eyes.~~Or, Dean accidentally kidnaps Castiel while trying to steal his car, and they both have to deal with consequences they were never prepared for.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: Highway To Heaven [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155161
Comments: 120
Kudos: 103





	1. welcome to your life, there’s no turning back

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based on the book “Girl, Stolen” by April Henry (it’s a great book, you should read it)
> 
> title is from a Taylor Swift song.
> 
> (hopefully I don’t get sued! :D)
> 
> special thanks to my beta IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt. you are fantasmagorical :))
> 
> this fic is unfinished and I have only a vague idea of where it’s going to go, so let’s go on this ride together, shall we? ;)

Castiel was looking out the window at the cars passing by, squinting as the sun from the unobstructed sky glinted off their shiny paint jobs and into his eyes.

It always starts on a sunny day, doesn’t it?

“Stay here,” Naomi instructed, leaning down from outside the car with one hand on the roof. Castiel rolled his eyes. “If I find out you left, there will be consequences.”

_Where would I run to?_ Castiel almost asked, but instead he pursed his lips and nodded curtly, only daring to turn up the car radio when Naomi was out of hearing distance. 

Naomi had left the keys in the ignition, as she was just running into the store for one cosmetic thing or another, and really, would it be all that bad if Castiel just hopped over into the driver’s seat and rode off into the metaphorical sunset like his own Prince Charming?

Yes, it would indeed be very bad. Naomi and his father, Chuck, would have the police on his ass almost before he even began to consider where to go (because he _had nowhere to go_ ).

Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes as the radio cut in and out through static. He really hated this fucking car, and his parents had all the money in the world to buy him a new one, but no, they stuck him with a stupid Lincoln Continental older than he was (though, the car was in arguably better shape).

The thing was ancient. Its A/C was one wrong speed bump away from blasting air hotter than Satan’s asshole on a summer’s day, it’s engine sounded like a grandpa about to hack up a lung, and from the outside, it was such an ugly yellow color that it looked like a banana on the verge of going bad.

(Castiel hated bananas. Eating the fruit was like deepthroating a mushy...maybe that was just the way Gabriel ate them. The point is, they drove him _bananas_ [heh].)

And now the radio was deciding to crap out? No way. Like Castiel would Grand Theft Auto his way out of Kansas in this fucking pile of junk.

His mother amazed Castiel with her perspective of him sometimes.

He was tempted to get out and let his rage out on the tires, but instead decided that he was too exhausted for that kind of physical exertion. He hadn’t slept much the night before, what with his anxious pacing and the obnoxious snoring of his brother Samandriel coming from the bed across the room. 

Castiel sighed again before opening the passenger side door and getting out of the car, stretching his back, his dress slacks straining against every movement. He really hated having to wear a suit all the time when he was with his parents and he truly considered taking the jacket off and chucking it into oncoming traffic.

Nope, not worth it. He could sell it online for a lot more. 

But it was the principle of the thing…

_Nah_.

Castiel finished his little impromptu stretching session (stretching before bed is supposed to help you sleep, right? Castiel didn’t know) and grumpily opened the back door of the car, slamming it open harder than he probably needed to. 

He _hrmphed_ as he got into the back seat, laying down and groping blindly on the floor for the blanket he knew he kept there for emergencies. It was scratchy and old, but it would work well enough to block out the sunlight.

Castiel reached towards his feet for the door handle before pulling it closed. He settled down, yanked the blanket over his head, and closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to fall asleep in the relative peace and quiet.

Well, the peace and quiet outside his mind, that is.

•||•

Castiel awoke to the sudden jerking of the car, and he sat up abruptly, looking around with blurry vision.

He blinked, and his vision cleared a little bit. _Maybe he needed glasses_.

The trunk was open, and Castiel watched as someone closed it back up, rocking the car again. 

Naomi waved at him condescendingly, before coming around to one of the back windows and knocking on it slowly with a single knuckle. 

Castiel blew out a quiet curse and rolled down the window. 

“I’m going to be a bit longer, Castiel. Stay here-“

“Or there will be consequences, yeah yeah,” Castiel said, waving his hand dismissively and laying back down.

Naomi was about to say some (undoubtedly unwitty) retort when Castiel rolled the window back up.

He pulled the blanket back over his head and sighed, the hot air of his breath coming back and hitting him in the face. 

Castiel listened to the passing of cars and focused on breathing recycled air for a few minutes longer before he faded back off to sleep.

•||•

The engine started up, a quiet rumbling that vibrated the entire car. Castiel startled out of his sleep, jumping a little bit at the unexpected noise before settling back down. He rolled over, mentally asking for _five more minutes_. 

He made a small _oof_ sound when his face hit the back of the seat as the car put on a sudden burst of speed.

“Mom, what the hell?” Castiel demanded, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, leaning forward in between the seats. 

He blinked once, twice (he really needed to get his vision checked) before everything cleared and he locked eyes in the rearview mirror with a pair of the greenest irises he had ever seen.

Naomi had blue eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s.: I’ll try to make every chapter title a song lyric that fits the chapter, so if you want to know the song, don’t be afraid to ask! :D  
> also: listen to the Lorde version of this chapter’s song ;)


	2. i’m on the highway to hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.  
> 1) this fic somehow has twenty four whole subscribers after the first chapter. you guys, that’s amazing :)  
> 2) my beta and I have a (small) idea of where this fic is going to go, and it WILL take a while to get there, so I will be updating on both Wednesdays and Saturdays from now on (or, I will attempt to, anyways ;))  
> enjoy this chapter from Dean’s pov!

Dean hated his dad.

John had put him in this stupid situation, droning on and on about the family business or some shit while Dean stood at attention to avoid getting hit. (It didn’t usually work.)

But _now._

_Now_ Dean was doing seventy in a forty-five and was about ready to open the back door and shove the _stupid fucking idiot who wouldn’t shut up_ out of the goddamn car.

“You had better stop right now or I’m calling the cops,” the idiot threatened, taking a phone out of his suit pocket.

Seriously. The dude was wearing a fucking _suit_ that was probably worth more than Dean’s life and the car he had just stolen combined. 

(Which wasn't a lot, but Dean was in the middle of weaving between cars so he decided not to think too much about it.)

Dean reached back, plucked the phone out of the man’s hands, and threw it out the window, all while keeping his eyes on the road.

Maybe all the training with John hadn’t been a waste.

The man sputtered for a minute before climbing into the passenger seat and reaching for the wheel. Dean swerved, barely missing a collision with another car, and elbowed the guy’s arms out of the way. “Stop! Just stop! I don’t want to have to tie you up but I will if I fucking have to!”

The man slumped back in his seat, defeated.

“I didn’t _mean to_ kidnap you, but you already know what I look like, so I can’t let you go. I’m gonna have to take you back to Dad,” Dean said quietly, thinking out loud, and if he hadn’t been driving, he would’ve either put his head on the wheel or hit the dashboard until his knuckles bled.

Perhaps both.

The man crossed his arms and looked at Dean, obviously not buying it. “If you let me go right now, I won’t tell anybody anything. Promise.”

Dean shook his head, turning right off of the main road. “Aw, hell no. Nice try though. _A_ for effort,” the steering wheel slid under his hand as he straightened the car onto the long dirt road that was ahead of them.

“Pinky promise?” The man offered, holding his little finger out with hesitant -and almost hysteric- hope written all over his face.

Dean scoffed. “What are you, fucking twelve? No!” He threw the car into park and ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands until he could think straight. “Just let me- let me figure this out.”

The man actually shut up for once, which was nice. Dean finally had some peace and quiet to think about what to-

Before he even knew what was happening, the car was shifting and the man was throwing open the door, hitting the ground running.

Dean looked out the back window as the man stumbled a little bit and ran in a diagonal before veering off the road and into a bush. He sighed, because when had _this_ become his life?

Probably when Mary died. But that was a _long_ time ago.

The stranger managed to pluck himself out of the -ouch, were those rose bushes? Who even kept rose bushes this far out of town?- and began running again, this time with a limp.

Dean sighed again and opened his door before casually jogging to catch up to the man who was failing miserably at the part of jailbreaker.

“Going somewhere?” Dean asked flippantly, jogging backwards in front of the man so he was facing him. The man’s nose twitched and he lengthened his stride just enough to trip Dean up.

Dean fell to the ground on his ass, and then immediately began to scramble back up to catch up with the man. Well, then he realized that the man was tripping over him (his crotch getting right in Dean’s face for a moment) and face planting into the compact dirt. 

Yeah, that one had to have hurt.

The man was persistent, though, Dean would give him that. He got back up and started limping slowly, barely putting pressure on his left side. Dean sighed and got up, his mama bear instincts kicking in.

“Do you need help?” Dean asked, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. 

The man shrugged him off and continued limping. “Not from you,” he said, venom lacing his voice.

Dean was done with the disrespect.

He swiftly stuck his foot out in front of the man’s feet, tripping him up, before catching him and smoothly laying him down on his back so he didn’t hurt himself any more.

Assault was _not_ something Dean needed added to this shitstorm of a criminal’s day.

“Listen here, man, I’m seriously not going to hurt you. You look like you’re in pain, so please let me take you to my boss and we can get you fixed up and then we can sort this whole mess out, alright?” Dean said, standing above the stranger.

The man cocked his head, and Dean realized for the first time how _pretty_ he was. Normally, pretty was something he would use to describe girls, but _handsome_ didn’t even begin to describe the way the man below him looked. 

He was just...pretty. 

Wow, he couldn’t even describe the guy. Dean’s education was truly top notch, thank God he dropped out of school when he did.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” the (pretty) man said, jutting his chin out. Dean sighed, because he _really_ hadn’t wanted to do this.

Dean punched the stranger in the face, and the man was out cold before he even knew what hit him.

And great, now Dean had to carry this dead weight all the way back to the car. 

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

•||•

Dean was by no means a weak guy.

Years of working in John’s “repair shop” and taking care of their house had made him objectively strong, not a Hulk or anything, but strong enough to function.

Dragging the unconscious man he had accidentally kidnapped to a running car thirty feet away was a _challenge_. 

The man wasn’t helping _at all_ (he was unconscious, after all, but that’s no excuse), and as Dean dragged him unceremoniously to the waiting Lincoln, he no doubt got rocks and dirt in places where rocks and dirt had no right to be.

Dean grunted one last time, pulling the man into the backseat, laying him carefully facedown so as not to hurt his leg or side or whatever had kept him from walking like a regular person.

Dean then looked around the car for anything that could be used to tie the man up. Rope would be nice, but he supposed desperate times called for desperate measures. 

The guy had _nothing_ in his car. No rope, no tape, no conveniently forgotten handcuffs. _Nothing._

Dean sighed. Of course this would happen to him. Why wouldn’t it? Of all the criminals in Kansas, he just so happened to be the one that stole a car with a man in it.

Dean started unlacing his work boots. The shoelaces were strong, they probably wouldn’t hold the man when he woke up, but it was better than nothing, Dean supposed.

John was going to be so _pissed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapters will be getting longer soon, promise! :))


	3. don’t ask questions, you don’t wanna know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall sorry this is a wee bit later than usual but I just spent 12 hours at the softball field and couldn’t catch a break to post. but here it is; enjoy :))

Castiel woke up with his face digging into the backseat.

He shot up, his side hurting with every breath he took. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” the man in the driver’s seat said, glancing at Castiel in the rearview mirror. “We’re almost home, and then we’ll figure everything out, okay?”

Castiel huffed and was about to reach up and slap the infuriating man in the face when he realized his hands were tied behind his back. “Quit being nice to me and just kill me already.”

The man’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel and a muscle in his jaw ticked. “I’m not going to kill you,” the man said, his voice eerily calm. “I’m taking you to my base,  _ unharmed _ . We’re probably just goin’ to ask for some money and let you go, but I don’t know yet because I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Castiel scoffed, scooching up in his seat. “Obviously,” he said, trying (and failing) to untie whatever was holding his hands together. He cocked his head as they passed by a small crossroads with no signs. “What’s stopping me from just opening the door and running away?”

The man looked in the rearview mirror again, skepticism in his eyes. “Your side is bleeding, and you have no idea where we are. You’ll be dead before you even manage to figure out which way you’re going.”

Castiel gritted his teeth, because the man was right. He hadn’t the slightest idea where they were (he had never had to be this far away from the city, except in passing when getting back to his dorm) and his side was in a lot of pain. “If you think I’m going to just let you take me, then you are sadly mistaken.”

The man sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Don’t make me knock you out again,” he mumbled, slowing down to take a final turn towards a small two story house.

Castiel winced as the car hit a particularly large bump and the man almost looked sympathetic before Castiel decided he had no reason to be. “We’re here. I’m going to have to blindfold you when you meet my d- my boss,” the man said, putting the car in park and looking up at the house like it would somehow reveal some secrets.

Castiel looked up at the house too, gaping at the dilapidated architecture while he still could. The house looked like it used to be a happy grey, but it had some burn marks lapping around the dark blue shutters. Now, it stood as a bleak square against the plainness of the deserted landscape, the trees bordering it barely managing to make it look a little less threatening.

_ Only a little, though.  _

“Step out of the car,” the man said, his voice more stern than Castiel had ever heard it. “Don’t try anything or your life will be hell.”

Castiel eyed the man as he climbed out of the backseat. He looked stressed, his green eyes darting from Castiel to the house and back, like he couldn’t decide which was the bigger threat.

“Please turn around,” the man pleaded, his voice a broken sound compared to what it had been moments ago. Castiel studied him for a second before complying. “I’m going to blindfold you now.”

Suddenly, the world was a dark shade of maroon, and Castiel pursed his lips to keep from shouting out for help on the principle.

“Get in here, boy!” A voice called from what Castiel thought was the direction of the house, and the man behind him flinched, letting out a small string of curses. “Who the hell is that?”

“This is, uh-“ the man said loudly, before leaning in to Castiel. “What’s your name?”

Castiel stayed silent. The man gently kicked his calf, but Castiel just let out a grunt of indifference.

“Answer me, son!”  _ Son _ . Castiel filed it away.

“He’s- ah, funny story, actually…”

Castiel heard some boots crunching over the ground as someone approached. “Do I pay you to bring home boys and funny stories, boy? Do you even  _ want _ to stay under this roof?”

The man behind Castiel shivered, and his fingers ran idly over Castiel’s knuckles. “No, sir. Yes, sir.”

The boots crunched closer, and Castiel could barely make out the faded silhouette of someone before he heard the unmistakable sound of a slap. Castiel flinched, ready for the pain, but none came.

“You best tell me your funny story,  _ Dean _ ,” Boots said, and Castiel filed away yet another piece of information.

_ Dean.  _ So Dean was the man who was practically holding Castiel’s hands to keep from falling to the ground. “Some idiot left the car keys in the ignition, sir. I was on the hunt for new...uh-clients and saw her, so I popped the lock and got in. I was starting to drive away when this man revealed himself from under a blanket in the backseat,” Dean said, and he paused for a moment before adding “-sir.”

Boots seemed to be quiet in contemplation for a moment before asking “Did he see your face?”

Dean’s grip on Castiel’s hands tightened slightly. “Yes, sir.”

Boots grunted and Castiel heard him walk away, apparently finished conversing with his son.

“Motherfucker,” Dean said quietly, before gently pushing his shoulder in between Castiel’s shoulder blades, urging him forward.

Castiel was about to say something in return, but was interrupted by the fast paced crunching of gravel. “Dean!” A new voice called happily, and holy shit, this voice sounded  _ young _ .

“Hey, uh,  _ Mike _ ,” Dean said, and Castiel was about to file away the name when he heard a scoff from in front of him.

“Dude, my name’s Sam. Are you having a stroke?” The young voice asked, and Castiel could almost hear the tilt of his head. “Who’s this? Is this your friend? Is this your  _ boyfriend?  _ Does Dad know you have a boyfriend? Why is he blindfolded?”

A hand removed the blindfold carefully, and Castiel was left blinking in the sudden light. In front of him was a tall and thin boy no older than fifteen, looking at him quizzically.

“Damn it, Sammy,” Dean said, snatching the maroon fabric from Sam’s hands. He quickly pulled it over his head and- holy mother of God, Castiel had been blindfolded by Dean’s shirt. 

Castiel was more disappointed in the fact that he didn’t get to see Dean shirtless than he probably should have been. 

“Oh,  _ now _ you say my name,” Sam rolled his eyes dramatically before turning back to Castiel, eyebrow raised. “Who are you?”

Castiel opened his mouth to reply when he was interrupted by Dean.

“Oh sure, just be rude. I thought I raised you better, Sammy.”

“Maybe if you would introduce me, I wouldn’t have to be rude!”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know his name,” Dean said under his breath and Sam watched him for a moment before his gaze flicked over to Castiel, suspicious.

“I’m Castiel,” he said, as if that would explain to Sam everything that was going on here.

Fuck,  _ he  _ didn’t even know what was going on here.


	4. you got a cold heart and the cold hard truth: i got a bottle of whiskey but i got no proof

Dean led Castiel (what the fuck kind of name is that?) towards the house.

  
Well, more like he held Castiel’s hands together and forced him forward, ‘cause the shoelaces were starting to come untied and Dean still needed to be a threatening presence.

“Nice house,” Castiel commented, (probably) snarky as hell, and Dean shoved him forward a little harder than strictly necessary. 

Dean understood his house was not something to be proud of, but it was the best he could do on his own right now. Besides, he couldn’t afford to sell it; he barely had enough money to feed and clothe Sam and get his dad his liquor and the random shit he needed for his “job”.

“Yeah, it is, but Dean doesn’t usually bring friends over for some reason-“ Sam began, apparently missing the (probable) snark. He was walking ahead of them and glancing over his shoulder, looking like he was about to become their tour guide for the day.

Dean shook his head violently at Sam, who just tilted his head at them. “What Sam’s trying to say is that you need to watch your mouth,” Dean corrected, tightening his grip on Castiel’s wrists to keep Castiel upright as he lurched forward, his foot catching on some random part of a car skeleton that was half buried in the dirt.

Castiel had never walked through the car graveyard that was their entire yard, but Dean was happy to let him stumble along. If Dean believed in _the universe_ shit, it would be karma for the snark.

Castiel’s azul (was that a shade of blue or Spanish for blue? Dean always got them mixed up) eyes skated over to Dean in suspicion.

“Can’t you just fucking _walk,”_ Dean mumbled, and something like defiance flashed in those eyes before Castiel turned forward and focused on walking up the two creaky steps that led up to an even creakier wrap-around porch.

Sam was waiting for them to go inside first, and Dean let Castiel be their human shield to get into the kitchen.

“Goddamnit, son,” John slurred from the living room, and the only part of him that Dean could see was his hand on a bottle of something.

Probably liquor. Dean sure hoped not.

“Yes, sir?” Dean asked quietly, and Sam cowered behind Dean.

Castiel glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Put the kid in his room, and put the other one in yours, then get your ass back down here!” John demanded, the bottle disappearing behind the couch as he took a drink.

“But-“

“That’s an order, son!” John yelled, throwing the bottle across the room. It broke against the wall, the shattering of glass a violent sound compared to the low hum of the TV. Dean hoped the bottle was empty, because whiskey would be a bitch to get out of the carpet and glass shards were already hard enough to clean up. “You fucking kidnapped him, he’s your responsibility!”

Dean took one hand off of Castiel’s wrists to push Sam farther behind him. “Yes, sir.”

John settled back down into the couch, apparently done with the conversation, as he turned the volume on the TV up to an unreasonable level.

Dean shuffled through the kitchen, wincing as Castiel kicked some old take-out boxes out of his way. 

“Up the stairs,” Dean said into Castiel’s ear so he could be heard over the TV, and he was sure he felt Castiel shiver.

_Huh._ Castiel must be really scared to be shivering like that.

_Damn right, he should be scared._

“I’m going to my room, Dee,” Sam whispered from behind Dean when they reached the second story, and Dean nodded, feeling Sam’s body heat disappear and hearing his feet pad quietly down the hall. 

“He seems like a nice kid,” Castiel said loudly, like he had no regard for his personal safety. Dean flinched and looked over his shoulder, but could still hear the voices on the TV from where they were.

“He is,” Dean agreed, the tension leaking out of his shoulders as he focused on his little brother. “Sammy’s a good kid, he shouldn’t be here.”

Dean almost added ‘with _him_ ’ but decided that was information Castiel didn’t need to know.

“In there,” Dean said instead, pointing to the last door on the left. Castiel obediently walked towards it and stopped in front of it.

Dean frowned. “What are you doing? Go inside!”

Castiel scoffed. “I would, except the door is closed and my hands are, quite literally, tied.”

Dean scoffed to hide a blush and reached forward to turn the handle. It stuck a little bit, and he had to shake it some, but the door finally opened (if Dean said a few curse words like they were his explicit version of _open sesame_ , then that’s nobody’s business but his own).

“ _Now_ go inside,” Dean said, again glancing downstairs via the railing in between the top floor landing and the bottom floor. 

Castiel complied, shuffling into Dean’s room. He was obviously trying to take in his surroundings without Dean noticing, and Dean just rolled his eyes. 

Then Dean took in his own room through Castiel’s eyes, and figured it was pretty decent looking. Compared to the rest of the house (except for Sam’s bedroom, because Dean made sure his room was always clean), Dean’s room was fairly well kept. 

There wasn’t much in the room to begin with, so Dean would have to try pretty hard to make it messy.

“Go sit on the edge of the bed, I guess,” Dean said, realizing he didn’t have a chair or anything of the sort to tie Castiel to, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back downstairs to get one until he had to.

Castiel walked over to the bed and sat down, wincing. His shoulders shifted to an uncomfortable angle as he moved his arms around behind his back. 

“I’m going to untie you now,” Dean explained, climbing onto the bed and kneeling behind Castiel. 

Castiel’s breath hitched suspiciously, just the tiniest bit, but Dean ignored it. 

Dean untied his shoelaces and tossed them onto his pillow before deciding to move them out of sight so neither he nor Castiel would be tempted to make a noose or something of the sort.

It would most likely be Dean to do so, but he moved them into his nearly-empty closet anyways.

“Now I’m going to tie you to the bedpost,” Dean continued explaining, looking in his closet for the rope he _knew_ was in there somewhere.

He turned back around to find Castiel studying him, idly rubbing his wrists. “You realize you don’t have to tell me everything you’re going to do. I mean, I appreciate it, but I kinda concluded that you’d be tying me up again.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a moment before roughly grabbing his wrists and tying them to the bedpost at the bottom of his bed, leaving Castiel sitting upright. Castiel winced again. “Excuse me for trying to be polite, Mr. Grumpy. It’s not like there’s an _Everything You Need to Know About Kidnapping_ book, is there?”

Castiel looked up, thinking. The corner of his mouth quirked into something in between a smile and a frown, and Dean found his eyes focusing on that part of his face until Castiel began to talk. “No, but I’m sure there’s an etiquette of kidnapping book somewhere that you could read.”

Dean stiffened, and began searching his room for a gag he could use on Castiel. “I ain’t reading no books. If you got any problems with my hospitality, you can go ahead and shove it up your ass.”

Castiel hummed, eyes tracking Dean as he hunted down a gag (preferably an especially dirty sock). “I’ll shove it up mine if you let me shove something else up yours,” he replied quietly.

Dean paused for just long enough for him to see Castiel turn a bright red before turning back to his work, choosing to ignore the comment like the mature nineteen year old man-child he was.

“Fuck it,” Dean finally said, grabbing a sock (that was disappointingly one of his clean ones) and shoving it in Castiel’s mouth with two fingers.

Castiel’s eyes did this little thing where they almost seemed to roll back in his head and Dean chose to ignore that as well.

“I’ll be back,” Dean said, all Arnold-like and purposefully leaving the _hopefully_ unsaid. 

Castiel nodded, and he said something that sounded vaguely like ‘I’ll just wait here, then’ but Dean couldn’t tell because he was already getting out the door and closing it behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that’s right y’all, my beta and I have made the decision:  
> there will be a second fic to this series 😁


	5. dear mister fantasy, play us a tune, something to make us all happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for implied child abuse

Castiel had spit the gag out (after a long struggle and some tests of his flexibility) and was rubbing his wrists together frantically to try to get enough friction to break the rope when someone opened the door.

Castiel froze, ready to deny any (failed) escape attempts, when Sam’s shaggy head poked into the room, followed by the rest of his lanky body. 

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel said politely, and Sam looked him up and down before closing the door behind him. 

“Hi, Castiel. Did Dean already go downstairs?” Sam asked, his voice small as he sat down on the other side of the bed.

Castiel tilted his head and nodded, and Sam’s face almost looked scared for a moment before he schooled his expression, pulling his knees up to his chin. 

“How old are you, Sam?” Castiel asked softly as the sudden urge to take care of this _kid_ was making his fingers twitch.

Sam glanced at Castiel before dropping his gaze in favor of picking at the threads of the worn blanket on the top of the bed. “Thirteen,” he said quietly, before looking up at Castiel again, quickly adding “-but I’ll be fourteen in a few weeks!”

Castiel blinked at him. _What was a kid like him doing in a place like this?_

“How old are you?” Sam asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. 

Castiel smiled, because Sam’s enthusiasm to be a knowledge sponge and soak up all the information he could reminded Castiel of himself.

Well, _before._ Castiel was just floating through life at this point. 

_Just existing._

“I’m nineteen,” Castiel said, and Sam tried to hide a smile but failed miserably. “What?”

“‘S nothin’,” Sam said, allowing a toothy grin to shine on his features. “You’re just the same age as Dean, ‘s all. I’m glad he’s making new friends.”

Castiel offered a hesitant smile in return, but he was still confused. “Dean doesn’t have friends?”

Sam’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, he _does_ , I just don’t like ‘em very much. They come over and help our dad sometimes, so they automatically treat Dean like crap and I don’t think that’s okay, ‘cause friends are s’posed to be nice and Dean’s are not. And Dean’s like the aweseomest person ever, so them treating him badly pisses me off.”

Castiel chuckled at the run-on sentence that was clearly the unfiltered thought process of a thirteen (almost fourteen!) year-old. 

Although all the information Sam just gave him was _extremely_ worrying.

Just as Castiel was going to ask some important questions that could help him figure what the hell was going on, like _where the fuck are we?_ , Sam blinked and seemed to notice the (not frayed, despite Castiel’s best efforts) rope that was keeping Castiel tied to the bedpost. 

“Why’re you tied up?” Sam asked, leaning forward and untying the rope. 

Castiel made a sound of appreciation as he rubbed his abused wrists. “Dean kidnapped me earlier, and he was making sure I didn’t escape,” he said, nonchalantly, like this was something that happened everyday.

Sam’s eyes practically bulged out of his head and he whipped his head around to look at the closed door. “Holy crap,” he breathed, before turning back to Castiel, looking a little like a deer in headlights as he shrunk away from Castiel. “I- uh...Dean kidnapped you? I really thought you were his friend. ‘m sorry.”

Sam leaped up, fidgeting nervously with the rope that was hanging limp in his hands. “I’m really sorry. I-I can’t let you go. I want to, I really do, ‘cause you’re cool and I think you’d be good for Dee, but I can’t.”

“Why can’t yo-“ Castiel began to say, but was interrupted by a crash and some muffled yelling coming from downstairs. 

Sam flinched and walked over to sit back down on the bed. “I’m just going to stay here,” he squeaked quietly, pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them. He rocked back and forth gently, foot tapping anxiously on the bed.

Castiel walked over to the door and put his ear against it. Sam got back up too, like he was making sure Castiel wasn’t going to leave, even though Castiel was sure he was just looking for a way to get his nervous energy out.

A string of screamed curse words could be heard from the other side of the door, presumably from downstairs, and Castiel turned around, covered Sam’s ears with his hands, and led him back to the bed.

Sam bristled, shaking Castiel’s hands off his head but still sitting back down on the bed with him. 

“Does this...“ Castiel hesitated, trying to figure out how to word what he was trying to say.

Sam just nodded glumly. “Dean always takes it for me,” he whispered, leaning his head back against the wall that the bed was next to and closing his eyes. “I always come up into his room and lay in his bed so I can help him when it’s over.”

_Holy shit._ Castiel’s family may have been totally fucked up, but at least his parents never hit him.

“Um-“ Castiel said, and a worryingly loud clattering came from downstairs followed by a groan of agony and a whimper. 

The noise would be a perfect cover for Castiel to leave. He could tie Sam up, sneak down the stairs, out the door and into his car without being spared a second glance.

He could go back home and keep _existing_ and tell the police about what was going on in this house, what was happening to Sam and Dean.

But if their dad found out Castiel escaped, would Sam and Dean last long enough for Castiel to get them help?

Maybe this was Castiel’s chance to live a little, to have some excitement in his life while helping some people.

It was a twisted thought.

“What-what school do you go to?” Castiel asked, copying what Sam was doing but keeping his eyes opened so he could see any threats.

Sam opened one eye to look over at Castiel, as if he had had the same thought process as him and was wondering when Castiel was going to make a break for it. “Lawrence High. And before you ask, I’m a grade ahead of where I should be, ‘s why I’m a freshman but thirteen.” 

Castiel put his hands up in surrender, because he hadn’t even thought about what grade Sam was in. “How do you like it there?” 

Sam sighed and put his hand out, tilting it side to side. “‘s okay. There aren’t many kids my age so I don’t have many friends, but that’s alright because my grades are really good and I have Dean.”

Castiel nodded. The sound of glass breaking whipped up through the door. “I know the owner of Lawrence High. My parents are friends with him.”

Sam turned to face Castiel fully. “Are your parents like...rich or somethin’?” He asked, his head tilted so his hair was hanging haphazardly to one side.

Castiel stayed against the wall. “Or somethin’. My dad’s a writer and my mom’s an executive at a law firm.”

Sam paused for a moment, letting the information sink in. He was nodding idly, like the movement helped him process his thoughts. “Who’s your dad?”

Castiel sighed. He’d been hoping to avoid this. “Carver Edlund,” he said quietly, and Sam looked like he was about to either pass out or get up and scream. “But his real name isn’t as cool, his real name is Chuck Shurley.”

Sam’s eyebrows were up so high that Castiel couldn’t see them anymore. “Dude…” he started, running a hand through his hair. “ _The_ Carver Edlund?”

Before Castiel could confirm, the door opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> umm...after that chapter is probably not the best time to ask but...  
> leave a comment? please? I’m not in the best place rn and your comments brighten my day more than you know <3


	6. told you not to worry, but maybe that’s a lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, I hope yall are doing well.  
> life’s been pretty shitty lately, not going to lie, but here’s another chapter because your guys’ reactions give me life.  
> thank you thank you thank you again to my wonderful beta, you have made sure all the chapters are actually coherent and helped me in more ways then I can count.  
> please enjoy! :) <3

“Get out, Sammy,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

Sam looked at him, his eyes widening. “Hell no, Dean. Your face looks more awful than it usually does.”

Dean was sure it was meant to be light hearted banter. But beneath it, he could tell Sam was scared.

“I’ll be fine, bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam replied automatically. Castiel watched this whole interaction feigning disinterest, though his eyes looked wildly amused. “Let me at least go grab you some ice and some bandages and some-“

“I said, I’ll be fine. Now go to your room,” Dean said, voice hard. Sam pursed his lips and Dean softened. “Please,” he added softly, and Sam inhaled sharply, like he was going to say something else, but decided against it.

“See ya later, Castiel,” Sam threw over his shoulder before he slipped out the door. 

Dean closed the door behind him and leaned against it, sighing and letting his eyelids fall.

“You _should_ probably get some ice on those bruises,” Castiel suggested hesitantly, and Dean opened one eye. 

“Did I ask you?” Dean asked, going for flippant and distinctly indifferent but ending up somewhere on the scale of broken and hurting.

Two things he was, but Castiel didn’t need to know that.

Dean closed his eye again and slipped down the door, before sitting down on the carpet and leaning his head back. _Sleep_ , he just needed to sleep and this would all go away. It had to be a nightmare, right?

Some crazy specific nightmare where his dad wanted to demand a ransom for the kid Dean had accidentally kidnapped because he just so happened to be the step-child of a renowned writer who had infinitely more money than Dean could even dream about?

_With Dean’s luck…_

A finger gently poked his face and Dean flinched away, hitting his head on the door. “Fuck,” he spat out, opening his eyes.

Blue eyes stared back at him, blinking. Why the fuck was Castiel so _close?_ If Dean leaned forward just a few inches, he would be able to kiss those plush lips, they were _right there-_

“You need some ice,” Castiel said, snapping Dean out of his thoughts and bringing his eyes back up to Castiel’s blue ones. “Your face is going to swell.”

Dean sighed. “Thanks for your input, doc, but that ain’t exactly an option right now.”

Dean’s face _was_ hurting. John had beaten the hell out of him, kicking and punching and kneeing, all the while screaming something about what a colossal fuckup Dean was, how Castiel could get them sent to prison, how they had to keep Castiel tied up at all times so he couldn’t escape-

“What the fuck happened to the rope?” Dean asked, eyes widening, ‘cause if he were in Castiel’s position, he would’ve punched Dean unconscious and fled by now.

Castiel looked nervous. “Sam untied me. Said something about me being good for you or some shit. I won’t try to escape though, promise.”

“If you hold out your pinky again, I will break it.”

“My finger or the promise?” 

Dean sighed. “Fucking Sammy,” he whispered, before shoving Castiel out of the way so he could stand up. “Where’d he put the rope?”

Castiel shrugged. “He probably took it with him if it’s not on the bed.”

Dean sighed and grabbed Castiel’s arm, hauling him up until he was standing. 

Castiel’s breath hitched, and this time Dean _knew_ it was because of the close proximity.

“Am I going to have to tie you up, Castiel?” Dean asked, his voice a mere growl, ‘cause he was through with today’s bullshit.

Castiel’s eyes widened and he shook his head. “No...sir,” he said, and Dean thought he saw a ghost of a smirk on his perfect lips. 

_No,_ his _imperfect_ lips that would be awful for kissing. Just horrible. And they totally wouldn’t look oh so good wrapped around Dean’s dick, those blue, blue eyes looking up at Dean through those inky black lashes.

Definitely not. 

“Right,” Dean said after a moment of charged silence. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep from making the situation more awkward and tension-filled than it already was. “You’re sleeping in my bed, I’ll take the floor.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I can take the floor. You sustained some injuries tonight that will only hurt worse in the morning if you refrain from sleeping in a bed.”

Dean shook his head. “Just ‘cause I kidnapped ya doesn’t mean I have to be rude. Guests take the bed, host takes the floor. Common knowledge.”

“Excuse me for not being up to date on _Good Housekeeping_.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Martha Stewart is a total bitch. I get my information from _Kidnapper’s Weekly.”_

Castiel looked amused at that. “I thought you said there wasn’t a book on kidnapping etiquette?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Never said I wasn’t a writer. Get in the goddamn bed.”

Castiel sat down on the bed, wincing a little bit, and Dean realized that his side was still oozing blood from his earlier escape attempt.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Take your shirt off.”

Castiel froze. “Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause I fucking kidnapped you and I can make you suffer.”

Castiel’s neck turned an interesting shade of red and he stared at Dean for a moment before hesitantly taking his shirt off. His face contorted in pain as the fabric clung to the blood that was already dried, and once he peeled it off, a fresh wave of red cascaded down his side.

“Get the fuck off the bed, dude,” Dean said to keep from wincing in second hand pain.

Castiel stood up, and promptly almost fell back down. Dean ran over to him and held his arm to keep him from collapsing.

“Is that one of your good shirts?” Dean asked, setting Castiel down gently on the floor, where he leaned against the wall. 

Castiel chuckled. “Not anymore,” he said, and Dean ripped it out of his hands to press it onto Castiel’s side to stop the bleeding. 

“I’ll get you another shirt, just don’t bleed out or anything,” Dean said, jumping up and opening his closet door. 

He kept a couple first aid kits in a hidden drawer in his closet, for all the times when John had beat him.

Thinking about that made Dean’s face throb, but he ignored it.

“Almost sounds like you care,” Castiel said suspiciously. 

Dean paused, before walking back over to kneel next to Castiel. “I don’t care. I’m simply saving my own ass, ‘cause damaged property ain’t gonna help get my dad the money he wants.”

Castiel stiffened. “A ransom?”

Dean nodded as he gently wiped some blood off of Castiel’s side. There weren’t that many scrapes along his torso, but they were fairly deep and were bleeding a lot more than they should be. “Mhmm. He’s gonna make a demand soon, once he wakes up. Speaking of, when were you gonna tell me your stepfather was _the_ Carver Edlund?”

Castiel recoiled away from Dean as Dean tried to clean his scrapes with...whatever the fuck was in the first aid kit. “That’s cold,” he breathed out, and Dean shot him a look. “I didn’t think it was of import.”

Dean threw his hands up. “Of course it’s ‘of import’-“ Dean pitched his voice lower to imitate Castiel’s deep timbre. “Before, you were just some random guy I accidentally kidnapped. _Now_ , you could be my dad’s ticket to riches.”

Castiel sighed. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. You have incentive to keep me now,” Castiel tilted his head at Dean. “You’ll probably just get the ransom money and kill me anyways.”

Dean blinked. He hadn’t thought about that. “No, we’ll let you go. I’ll make sure of it, but I can’t until someone pays.”

Castiel shrugged. “What makes you think someone will pay?”


	7. if he’s as bad as they say, then i guess i’m cursed

Castiel was fairly sure that nobody would pay for his ransom, especially if it was a large number.

His parents couldn’t care that he was gone, could they? They would care more about the fact that Castiel’s car was missing, even if it was a big pile of junk. It was still worth more money than Castiel was.

_At least they could sell the car._

“There,” Dean said, gently pressing down on the bandage to make sure it wouldn’t come off. “Now, get on the bed. I’m going to have to tie you up.”

Castiel felt his eyes widen (and his dick harden) involuntarily. “Um...okay.”

He stood up, wincing as the movement sent a wave of stinging through his side, though the pain would probably be gone over the course of the next day. 

Dean looked on, something like concern on his face (though, that couldn’t be). “Are you gonna need some meds to be able to fall asleep?”

Castiel shook his head and laid down on the bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, the old blanket worn and soft. “I’ll manage,” he said through gritted teeth.

Dean watched him for a moment, contemplating, before he put one knee on the bed and swung the other to Castiel’s other side. Castiel choked in a breath, because Dean was _straddling him,_ but Dean wouldn’t-

“Put your arms above your head.”

Castiel barely managed to gather the brain cells to reply. “Buy me dinner first.”

Dean sighed, but even in the low light of the bedroom, Castiel could see some red painting his high cheekbones under his starry sky of freckles. “Please just put your fucking arms above your head.”

Castiel complied, eyelashes fluttering, because the subtext seemed to be saying _a lot_. Dean leaned forward, and Castiel pinched his eyes closed to avoid appreciating the look of concentration on Dean’s face as he gently but firmly tied Castiel’s hands to the bedposts at the top of the bed. 

The absence of Castiel’s sense of sight made his other senses heighten, and suddenly he was aware of how _good_ Dean smelled. A mix of motor oil, leather, and cloves filled Castiel’s nostrils, and Castiel clenched his jaw.

There was something sweet smelling there, too, the name of which was on the tip of Castiel’s tongue-

“Now, sleep,” Dean said, carefully climbing off of Castiel. Castiel opened his eyes and blinked, shivering as a wave of cold air replaced Dean’s comforting body heat. “I guess I should ask if you need anything first.”

Castiel gulped and shook his head. Dean smiled, clearly happy he wouldn’t have to leave the relative safety of his room. 

“Are you sure you want to sleep on the floor? I can share the- _your_ bed, there’s plenty of room.” Castiel offered hoarsely, and he hoped Dean couldn’t see the raging boner that was still confused as to why there was no longer a body on top of Castiel. 

Dean opened his mouth to reply but before he could, there was a knock at the door. Dean’s entire body tensed up and he put a finger to his mouth. 

“Come in,” he squeaked, then he cleared his throat and repeated himself.

Castiel was confused. Sam had just walked in before…

The door opened, revealing a taller and fuller body than Sam.

_Oh._

“Dean, since you fucked this up like everything else in your miserable little life, I’m going to give you a chance to make somethin’ right,” Dean’s dad started, and Castiel watched as Dean stood up straighter and cowered away at the same time. “Call Alastair and get him to come here so we can go to the parking lot where the Impala and get it ‘fore people start gettin’ suspicious.”

Dean nodded mechanically, and Castiel was honestly surprised he didn’t salute.

“As for this little fucker,” Dean’s father snarled, and Castiel tensed up. “How much do ya think your parents’ll pay, huh? They want their sweet lil’ boy back, they’ll needta pay.” 

Before Castiel could respond with an estimate in the low hundreds, the man spun on his heel and walked out, shoulder smacking into the door frame on his way out. A litany of expletives floated through the air as Castiel heard him struggle down the stairs in his drunken state.

Dean inhaled sharply, and Castiel turned back to him with wide eyes. “Guess I gotta call Alastair, huh?”

Castiel nodded slowly, because that whole interaction had been...well, _whoa._

“Who’s Alastair?” 

Dean shook his head. “One’a my friends. _John_ likes him better’n he likes me, but what c’n ya do?” Dean lifted his shoulder in a sort of _what’s done is done_ way and patted down his pockets before pulling out a cell phone.

Castiel studied Dean as he slowly typed something out on his phone. His face was already bruising a galaxy of blacks, blues, and purples, his lip was busted, and Castiel wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t see out of his left eye the next day. 

“Are you going to take care of yourself?” Castiel asked suddenly, and he kicked himself for sounding concerned.

Dean glanced up at him, something flashing in his impossibly green eyes as he raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

“I mean-you took care of me like you had done it before, aren't you going to do the same for yourself?”

Dean turned to sit on the bed. He kept his feet on the floor, and balanced his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his head. “Twisted bastard likes to see what he did to me the day after, then I can clean up.”

Castiel made a little gasping sound, though he had no idea he was capable of it. “If you let me go, I can help. I can help you, and I can help Sam-“

Dean turned on Castiel in the blink of an eye, a muscle in his jaw clenching as he wrapped a hand around Castiel’s throat. “Don’t bring my brother into this,” he said lowly, and Castiel gulped. 

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line before climbing on top of Castiel again, and Castiel whimpered.”And you know that if I let you go, you won’t get far. The only way I can protect Sam is by doing what that _fucker_ downstairs wants me to do and by taking the hits for my little brother. So I _will not let you go_ , do you understand?”

Dean’s voice had lowered to a growl, his hand was still wrapped around Castiel’s throat, and Castiel’s dick was back on the _sexy times_ train. Castiel couldn’t do anything but give a small nod as his head began to pound from the lack of oxygen. 

“Good,” Dean said, voice lighter, and he climbed off of Castiel (again) and let go of his neck. “Now go the fuck to sleep so I can think.”

Castiel gasped in a breath and attempted to comply. _He_ knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but _Dean_ didn’t know that, so maybe if Castiel faked it convincingly enough, he would be able to get some useful information and-slash-or give himself a chance to escape.

Castiel closed his eyes and turned his head to the side, trying to get in a good position to (fake) sleep in.

And _holy fuck,_ the mattress was actually really fucking comfortable, and it _smelled_ like Dean…

Castiel drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m not sure anymore, guys.  
> sorry?


	8. mr. misunderstood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are awesome!!  
> this fic now has forty eight subscribers and I’m pretty speechless. thank each and every one of you for reading, you give me a reason to get up in the morning! <3
> 
> there is a TON of information in this chapter, keep an eye out ;)

Dean watched as Castiel’s body relaxed and his breathing evened out before he walked out of his room and closed the door behind him. 

He wandered over to Sam’s room, opened the door and peeked in, happy to see that Sam was asleep in his bed. 

Dean closed the door silently and crept down the stairs, and _yup,_ just as he had suspected, John’s snoring was audible over the loud humming of the television. 

Dean sighed and ran into the room, quickly turned the TV down, and then ran back out. He walked into the kitchen, grabbed his leather jacket, and snuck outside through the door.

The cool air of the newly minted night made Dean shiver and pull his jacket tighter around him. He spotted a figure leaning against a truck and looking up at the sky, and he carefully approached him.

“Your dad couldn’t last long enough to help, hmm?” Alastair asked, barely even moving his head. 

Dean sighed and leaned next to him, studying at the moon. “He’d be too wasted to drive anyways.”

Alastair snorted and turned towards Dean. “Get in the car, let’s go get your ride.”

Alastair pushed off the hood of the truck and walked around to the driver’s side. Dean stood for a moment longer, watching the endless sky, until Alastair started the truck and he walked to the passenger side.

Dean opened the door and felt the truck rock as he got inside. “The strip mall in town, that’s where she is.”

Alastair nodded, but his eyes were twinkling and he had a smirk on his face. Dean looked at him. “What?”

“ _Boo_!”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Dean cried, jumping and hitting his head on the top of the truck. “Luke, what the fuck?”

Luke laughed from the backseat, leaning forward in between the driver’s and passenger’s seats. Alastair snickered as he put the truck in reverse.

“Oh, Dean-o, such an easy scare,” Luke said, punching Dean’s shoulder. Dean flinched away, but that just made Luke laugh harder. 

“You guys suck ass,” Dean said, reaching for the music. His hands needed something to do after the shot of adrenaline that Luke had given him.

Alastair slapped his hand away and slowed the truck down significantly. “You can pick the music if you can read that sign right there.”

Alastair was pointing to a sign on the side of the road, near some old crossroads. It had -Dean took a minute to count- eight sides (was that a...pentagon? Dean knew it wasn’t a square, but he couldn’t remember the name), some bullet holes, and was red. 

_Green means go, red means-_

“It says ‘stop’,” Dean said, proud that he hadn’t even had to read it.

The letters danced in front of his eyes sometimes, which was why he had always struggled in school. He had _hated_ reading out loud to the whole class because everytime the letters would do a jig he’d get tongue tied and then his teacher -or God forbid, _another student_ \- would correct him. 

It was fucking _embarrassing._ Once John had found out, he had started making Dean work more and more in the garage until eventually Dean had just dropped out of school.

Good thing too, ‘cause if John was right, Dean was dumber than a box of rocks and wasn’t going to go anywhere in life anyways.

Alastair laughed. “I don’t think that sign can tell us what to do, huh, Luke?” The car sped through the deserted intersection, and Dean could see the extra dirt being kicked up behind them. 

“Nuh-uh,” Luke said, eyes sparkling almost red as the headlights reflected off the stop sign. “How does your old man let you do _anything,_ Dean? You can barely read, barely write-“

“He’s good with his hands, huh, Dean-o?” Alastair interrupted, winking suggestively in Dean’s direction. “I would know, now, wouldn’t I?”

Dean clenched a fist next to his leg, where his friends couldn’t see. “Yeah, asshat, you’ve spent enough time in the garage to know that that’s the only reason my old man keeps me around.”

Alastair put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. He pressed down on the gas harder, and the dark landscape outside the truck became a blur. 

Luke smiled, and his canines caught Dean’s eye in the rearview mirror. “And your sticky fingers, too. Guess that’s a part of your hands, though.”

Alastair let out a cackle. Dean let out a chuckle to keep from punching something (or, preferably, some _one_ ).

“Yeah, fucked that up too, Luke,” Dean said, drumming his fingers on his knee.

Luke cocked his head. “How so, Dean-o?”

Dean forced out a laugh and a whoop as Alastair flew onto the main road, making Dean hit his already tender face on the window. “Newest car had a dude in it, didn’t know ‘till after I was driving away. Dad’s gonna ask for a random or some shit.”

Alastair snickered. “It’s a ransom, idiot.”

Luke leered towards Dean, suddenly interested. “The dude, he our age?” Dean nodded. Luke whistled and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “Man, is he hot? Might have to get my hands on that one,” Luke’s eyes flashed dangerously as Dean remembered Castiel holding his little finger out for a pinky promise.

_No fucking way_ was Dean going to let Luke steal that innocence away. 

Though, it could be argued that Dean already did when he kidnapped Castiel. 

“And that’s why they call ya Lucifer, Luke,” Alastair muttered, turning into the strip mall parking lot. 

Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he laid eyes on his car. “There she is,” he said, pointing to the Impala, one of the last cars in the lot.

“Hopefully your dad calls us in tomorrow, ‘cause I wanna see this fresh meat,” Luke called as Dean opened the door and ran towards his car. 

Dean threw him the bird over his shoulder, and he heard some music turn up as the truck squealed away, leaving skid marks on the light asphalt.

Dean rolled his eyes and smiled as he walked over to his car. “Heya, Baby,” he whispered, running a careful hand over her top. “Lookin’ good, sorry I had to leave ya, but you know how it goes.”

Dean sighed happily and slid into the driver’s seat, flexing his fingers as he rested his forearms on the steering wheel. “Let’s get ya home, pretty girl.”

•||•

When Dean got home, it was well past midnight. He had spent a few hours just driving around, enjoying the peace and quiet being on his own brought him. It allowed him to think about Sam, and Castiel, and what the _fuck_ he was going to do about making sure Castiel actually did go home. 

Dean parked the Impala and after giving her a small smile reserved only for her, he walked quietly into the kitchen. 

John’s snoring assaulted his ears almost immediately and Dean relaxed minutely. He took off his leather jacket, toed off his shoes, and crept up the stairs, moving as fast as he dared.

Castiel was still asleep in the same position as before, though the way that Dean had tied him up left little room for movement. 

He looked so...peaceful when he slept. When he was awake, Castiel had a tenseness that he seemed to carry like a weight; when he was sleeping, he looked relaxed, like he could finally escape into a world without worries.

Dean wished it was the same way for him.

He sighed as he laid down on the floor next to the bed, so _if_ Castiel were to wake up and somehow escape his bonds, he’d have to step on Dean to escape. 

Dean was used to the floor by now; whenever Alastair or Luke stayed over, up late talking cars or football or trash about Dean with John, they always took his bed without a second thought.

Dean folded one arm under his head as a pillow and curled into a ball to stay warm before he stared unseeing at the wall, too tired to sleep. 

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not have dyslexia, so I’m not sure how accurate my description is...:)


	9. if there’s a light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks again to my fantasmagorical beta, IAmSorry__sendmeaprompt. you are wonderful and I love you!! <33

Castiel woke up to the sound of high pitched...whining?

Yep, definitely some kind of mechanical whining. Castiel moved to get up, but couldn’t pick his arms up from above his head. He started tugging harder and harder, panic blossoming under his skin.

“Hey, whoa, calm down,” someone said, and Castiel whipped his head around wildly, looking for the origin of the voice.

Suddenly, hands were pinning Castiel’s shoulders to the bed and there was the gentle yet stern voice whispering in his ear. “Calm the fuck down, Cas.”

Castiel blinked, and Dean’s face came into focus. 

And then all the memories of the day before came flooding back. 

Castiel groaned, and Dean let go of his shoulders. His body _ached_ , and his shoulders and neck were sore from being in the same position for too lon-

“Cas?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head.

Dean rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were painted red in the slanted sunlight from the blinds. “If you really expect me to say ‘Castiel’ everytime I want to talk to you, you are so wrong.”

“You’re right. I’d actually prefer if you called me ‘stunningly handsome man I kidnapped’.”

Dean tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. “Still less of a mouthful than your real name, _Cas._ ”

Castiel shrugged. “Whatever. Can you untie me?”

Dean’s smile disappeared. “I can move you into a sitting position, but I can’t untie you. Can’t take any chances with you trying to escape.”

If Castiel wasn’t mistaken, Dean almost looked _sorry_ he couldn’t untie Castiel. 

“I won’t try to escape,” Castiel assured, but Dean’s apologetic face turned into one of doubt. “I won’t! Can you at least untie me so I can use the bathroom?”

Dean studied his face for a moment, probably looking for any sign that Castiel was faking it, before reaching up to untie Castiel’s hands. The tension in Castiel’s shoulders released immediately and he let out a small sigh of content.

Dean looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. Castiel put his (newly freed) hands up. “Hey, man, you try staying in the same position all night.”

Dean realized what he said before Castiel did. Dean’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red as he slowly backed away from Castiel. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, blinking. He hadn’t meant it like that, but then again-

“I’ll show you to the bathroom, c’mon,” Dean said after a moment of awkward staring at each other. 

Dean led the way out of the room and down the stairs -“To the guest bathroom, ‘cause nobody ever uses it and I _know_ it’s clean”-, stopping in front of a door Castiel hadn’t noticed before. He made a gesture into the room, and Castiel cocked his head. 

“I’ll be right outside, so don’t get any ideas,” Dean clarified, and Castiel rolled his eyes but nodded.

_Like that was going to deter him._

As soon as Castiel closed the door, he turned the water on to disguise any sounds he would make. He gently turned the lock on the door and breathed a sigh of relief, allowing himself a moment of peace.

It was cooler in the bathroom; the world outside was still in that cold phase between winter and spring, the ground still partially frozen and the rolling clouds enough to dissuade unmotivated people (see: Castiel) from going outside. There must be a window somewhere…

Castiel didn’t see a window. _What the fuck._ He looked around frantically, starting to get claustrophobic, because he was sure there would be a window inside the bathroom.

“You okay in there?” Dean said from the other side of the door. Castiel made a sound of confirmation, but Dean must not have heard him, because the door handle wiggled. “Cas?”

“I’m fine, why, you want to join me?” Castiel said, searching for a weapon or something when he realized there was a shower and that the white curtain was swaying slightly. 

Dean sighed audibly from outside. “You were smooth before, but that was just disgusting.”

Castiel let go of a wheezing laugh that tap danced dangerously close to the line of sounding insane as he slowly turned around, looking above the toilet to see the window.

It was small, and the glass was clouded so he couldn’t see what was outside, but that also meant that nobody from outside could see him.

Should he take the chance? Should he open the window, climb out, and make a run for it? Castiel wasn’t sure where his car was, which way was back to town, or even how long it would take to get there. Could he walk to the nearest house and get help? Was there even any other houses this far out?

_Should he leave Dean and Sam?_

Dean interrupted his thoughts, laughing from the other side of the door as he continued their conversation. “‘Course, we could always hop in the shower in there together-“ Dean abruptly cut himself off.

_Shit._ If Dean remembered the window...

The door handle wiggled violently. “Cas, I swear to God, don’t do it.”

Castiel ignored him, fumbling with the latch on the window. Cold was radiating off of the glass, and all Castiel had on was his dress slacks, dress shoes, and his bandages from the night before.

Castiel was only vaguely aware that the high pitched mechanical whining he had woken up to had stopped. 

A door slammed somewhere in the house and Dean’s shimmying of the door handle increased to frantic. “Cas, please, let me in.”

Castiel hesitated before nudging the window open the tiniest bit. It creaked in protest, and Castiel pinched his eyes closed.

“Dean!” Dean’s dad -John, Castiel had put together- bellowed. The door handle stopped moving for a second, and Castiel held his breath. 

“Yes, sir?”

“What are you doin’ standin’ outside the bathroom?” John asked, right outside the door now. 

“Cas-“ Dean cleared his throat. “ _Our guest_ is using the bathroom, I’m just waiting outside to take ‘m back to my room.”

Castiel heard John snort. “Our guest, my ass. You fucking kidnapped the guy, he ain’t no guest, boy.” 

Castiel heard John walk away and he relaxed. 

Then Castiel opened the window just as Dean started slamming his shoulder into the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are about to get ✨spicy✨, y’all  
> buckle up ;)


	10. you wanna play with fire? stick and poke tattoo?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suggest y’all listen to “New Girl” by FINNEAS (this chapter’s song) while reading ;)

“Motherfucker,” Dean cursed as the lock on the door gave way, splintering the doorframe. He stumbled into the bathroom and barely caught himself before he face planted.

He whirled in a tight circle, panic and worry pooling deep in his gut. He ran his fingers through his hair, biting his lip until he tasted the metallic tang of blood.

The room wasn’t big enough anymore, the walls were closing in, Dean couldn’t get enough oxygen. 

_ Where did Cas go? _

When Dean finally managed to get a few deep breaths, he realized he had goosebumps all over his skin and that it was  _ fucking cold _ . 

_ Then _ he remembered why he had been so worried in the first place.

“Stupid fucking  _ idiot,”  _ Dean mumbled (he wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself or Cas but it applied to both) as he peeked out the open window and into the side yard. If Cas ran the wrong way, he’d run straight to the barn and into the waiting arms of John, Alastair, Luke, fucking  _ Crowley _ . 

Dean whipped around to sprint out after Cas when he noticed the shower curtain twitch.

Tilting his head, he closed the window, thinking maybe it could be a breeze…

The curtain twitched again. Dean clenched a fist, walked over to the shower, and yanked the curtain aside, some of the rings popping off of the curtain rod. He made sure to allow the pure fury he felt show on his face so Cas would know  _ just how bad he had fucked up. _

Cas was huddled in the bathtub, eyes pinched closed, like the same part of him that still believed in pinky promises still believed in the  _ I can't see you, you can’t see me _ rule.

Dean threw the limp curtain aside and roughly grabbed Cas’ arm, forcing him up and out of the tub. “You shouldn’t have done that,” Dean said, voice a growl and betraying his rage. 

Cas shrugged, indifferent, though his eyes were darting in between Dean’s like he was scared. “Can you blame a man for trying?” 

Dean just tightened his jaw and his grip on Castiel’s arm until his nails were leaving crescents in the skin there. He reached across both of them and slammed off the water still pouring into the sink before marching Castiel out the door, up the stairs, and into his room.

“Sit,” Dean demanded, and Castiel kept his head down as he complied. Dean pursed his lips together before grabbing the thing nearest to him -the first aid kit from the night before- and chucking it across the room.

“What the actual  _ fuck _ do you think you were doin’?” Dean asked, getting in Cas’ - _ Castiel’s- _ face and poking him in the chest. “You could’ve gotten us both  _ killed _ .”

Cas just stared back at him, breathing raggedly. His bright blue eyes flicked down to Dean’s lips as he licked his own, then flittered back up to Dean’s eyes.

Dean had just realized how fucking close they were when Cas closed the mere millimeters in between them. 

Cas’ mouth was soft and warm against his, and before Dean could process all the reasons doing this was a very,  _ very _ bad idea -Cas was his hostage, his father might kill them  _ both _ (but more so Dean)- Dean found himself kissing back, lips parting to allow Cas’ tongue entry, and oh, yeah, that felt pretty damn good…

A spike of heat shot straight to his groin, and Dean found himself shoving toward Cas, pushing the other man back onto the bed and straddling him, deepening the kiss to plunder Cas’ mouth as he let out a shocked gasp, pinned under Dean’s weight. 

Cas’ hands scrabbled across his back, trying to pull him closer or push him away, Dean couldn’t tell, and he suddenly realized what he was doing. He was practically forcing himself on someone he’d fucking  _ kidnapped _ . 

He sat back on his heels, looking at Cas, sprawled out across Dean’s bed and looking positively debauched. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, weaving a panicked hand through his hair as Sam burst in through the door. 

“Dad wants you, Dee,” Sam said, out of breath as he leaned against the doorframe. His long hair swayed as he looked back and forth between Dean, who was still on top of Cas, and Castiel, who was looking like he had, indeed, just been kissed within an inch of his life. 

Dean cleared his throat, but his voice came out hoarse anyways. “Right, Sam, I’ll just-“ Dean bit his lip as Cas’ hips bucked underneath his almost like Cas couldn’t help it. The movement rubbed Cas’  _ very hard _ dick against Dean’s own, an invitation to stay, the friction feeling  _ oh so fucking good _ . Dean pinched his eyes closed and took a deep breath. “I’ll just go. Tie him up, would you?”

Dean got off of Cas even though every cell in his being wanted him to  _ stay _ , because it was safe with Cas, because Cas wouldn’t beat him to death for kissing a man. 

_ Especially _ if it was the man he had kidnapped.

Cas sat up in the absence of Dean’s body, looking dazed, but Dean wouldn’t know that, because he totally hadn’t done the dramatic thing that begins the ending of every cheesy Lifetime movie ever.

No, Dean  _ definitely did not _ look over his shoulder as he left his room.

  
  


•||•

Dean wandered out to the barn that was hidden from the road by the house. The barn was red, like every generic barn  _ ever _ , and hid John’s “business” from prying eyes in the sky.

Yeah, because  _ that _ totally wasn’t suspicious  _ at all _ . 

Dean heard the high pitched whirring of a saw as he walked through the large open doors. He peeked around the corner and saw Luke on the saw, forearms glimmering with sweat as he cut into some car part or another that would be buried in a shallow grave soon. 

Dean shivered. 

“-he’s the bloody son of Carver Edlund, of course you must demand a ransom,” a voice said from the other side of the barn, and Dean rolled his eyes as he walked behind a dilapidated car with bricks instead of tires. 

Crowley was standing behind the car, leaning against the wall as John sat on the arm of a tattered old couch, nursing a beer.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuck up himself,” John sneered, taking a swig of his bottle. 

Crowley smiled at Dean, and Dean smiled back, all teeth and not letting it reach his eyes. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. How are you, young Winchester?”

Dean skirted his eyes towards John, who motioned to him with his beer. “Answer the blimey fucker, son.”

“I assume you’ve heard about the dilemma I got us into,” Dean said politely, leaning against the car and crossing his arms. He hated small talk, it never got anyone anywhere.

Especially if one of the people had a British accent like he was a proper Englishman and not a low life criminal selling stolen car bits for a living.

Crowley nodded, and he pulled a full-on fucking  _ cigar  _ out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “I don’t see it as a dilemma as much as an opportunity. We could make a lot of money off of the boy, Squirrel.”

Dean’s nose twitched. He hated the nickname. “By demanding a  _ ransom _ ? Like the guy is just a pawn in our fucked up little game?” 

John stood up, eyes flashing dangerously. Crowley had a smirk on his face as John approached Dean. “He ain’t no person, son, he’s a responsibility and a fucking neon sign leading the police right to us. It’s either get a ransom and kill the goddamn son of a bitch or twenty-five to life, and I know which one I’m choosing.”

Dean’s eyes widened. This wasn’t an argument he was going to win, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

Dean didn’t notice over the blood rushing in his ears that the high pitched whining of the saw stopped and two pairs of footsteps quietly padded out of the barn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think! next chapter’s gonna be interesting, to say the least...  
> leave a comment? your reactions and this posting schedule are some of the only things keeping me sane and alive :)


	11. you can think that you’re in love when you’re really just in pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y’all  
> seeing as I will be busy all this weekend with a softball tournament, here’s this chapter a day early :)  
> this chapter is where the non-con comes into play, and it’s VERY graphic, so please be careful  
> thanks so much for all the support!! <3 you guys are awesome

“There, how’s that?” Sam asked, standing up from where he had been crouched on the ground.

Castiel laid down on the bed and stood back up, shuffling around and testing his new restraints around his ankle.

Sam had tied one end of a length of rope around his ankle and then tied the other around the bottom of the bedpost at the foot of the bed. Enough give to allow Castiel a small amount of walking distance and to lie down, but not enough to get close enough to reach anything. Sam had also tied his hands gently in front of his body-“you’ll be with Dean or me most of the time, so you won’t have time to untie it, and I want you to be comfortable”-and Castiel tugged his wrists apart experimentally.

“It’s obviously not ideal-“ Sam looked down sheepishly, so Castiel rushed to continue his sentence, “-but it’s a lot more comfortable than earlier. Thank you, Sam.”

Sam looked up at him and offered him a small smile behind his veil of hair. “Sure thing, Castiel. Just because Dean kidnapped you don’t mean you shouldn’t be comfortable.”

Castiel smiled back at the kindness Sam was showing him. There was no way that Castiel was going to let Sam stay here with John, doing...whatever it is they do.

The front door opened and closed, and two pairs of rushed footsteps pounded up the stairs like thunder. 

Sam blanched, and Castiel looked at him curiously. 

A low whistle cut through the air and Castiel whipped his head towards the door. 

“Damn, aren’t you a pretty little thing,” one of the men standing at the door said, regarding Castiel with a fiery gaze. 

Sam backed away from the door, plastering himself against the wall and sliding down it. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chest.

The other man laughed. “Aw, Sammy, c’mon, we ain’t gone hurt you. Just want a nice piece of that ass over there,” he said, tilting his head in Castiel’s direction. “Nah, we can save you for later, Sammy. Wouldn’t want big brother to come to your rescue again, hmm?”

Castiel’s eyes widened.  _ What? _

The first man entered the room, stalking towards Castiel as the second man closed the door slowly, almost like he was making sure both Sam and Castiel knew that there was no escape. 

The first man ran a hand through his cropped blonde hair as his icy blue eyes were overtaken by black pupil.

Castiel watched as the second man bent over next to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. Sam jumped and skittered away, eyes flying wide.

“Hey, leave Sam alone,” Castiel demanded, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. This was not a good situation to be in. 

_ At all _ .

The blonde man licked his lips as he smiled, wicked. “We ain’t gonna touch a hair on his pretty little head. You, however-“ before Castiel could move away, the man swung his leg over Castiel’s, effectively both straddling and pinning Castiel to the bed. “-I’m gonna fuck you until you scream.”

Castiel shivered and brought his hands up in between the two of them, but the man just smiled. He grabbed the back of Castiel’s head, bringing him forward into a kiss that was all wrong. 

Castiel squirmed, bucking his hips to try to get the dude  _ off _ , but then the guy was biting his bottom lip as he reached down towards Castiel’s dress pants. 

“Save some for me, Luke,” the second man said from the other side of the room, and Castiel whimpered.

“Get off of me,” Castiel said, pushing away with his arms as he turned his head up and to the side, getting the man’s - _ Luke’s- _ disgusting lips off of his own. “Fucking  _ stop _ .”

Luke snarled, biting Castiel’s neck hard, and when Castiel let out a broken yelp, Luke soothed the bite with his tongue. “You taste so good, gonna make you stop talking.”

Castiel glanced over to Sam, who was shaking in the corner as the second man talked to him. “Let Sam go, he doesn’t need to be here.”

Sam turned to look at Castiel, tear tracks glistening on his face. Luke sighed, getting off of Castiel and motioning to the other man. “Let him out, Alastair, we can have more fun with this one anyways.”

Alastair opened the door and Sam sprinted out of the room. 

Luke turned back to Castiel as Alastair closed the door. 

“You should leave now,” Castiel said, tilting his chin up, trying to get the men to back down.

Luke tsked, walking back over to Castiel as he undid his own belt and slid his jeans down his thighs slowly, like Castiel was somehow getting something out of this.

“On your knees,” Luke said, voice a pitch lower than it had been before.

Castiel pursed his lips and sat still.

Alastair came over to Castiel and forced him to the ground, a sharp pain thudding into his wrist as Castiel put his arms out to keep from hitting his face. He hissed as Luke ran a finger up his battered side, and Luke made a sound somewhere between a moan and a giddy laugh.

“Open your mouth for me,” Luke commanded as Alastair sat on the bed behind Castiel. Castiel kept his mouth closed, teeth grinding together until it was painful and his jaw cramped.

Luke grabbed Castiel’s chin and forced his mouth open with a surprising amount of strength for how skinny he was. “Such a good little slut for me,” he cooed as he took off his underwear, and his throbbing dick hit Castiel in the face.

Castiel closed his eyes as Luke pushed his hips forward, guiding his dick into Castiel’s mouth. “That’s it, darlin’.”

Castiel had the urge to close his mouth and bite Luke’s cock, but then Luke just kept going, past Castiel’s gag reflex, and tears sprung to Castiel’s eyes.

His hands scrabbled on his thighs, and Castiel realized how fucking hard  _ he  _ was, which made more tears come out of the sides of his eyes for different reason. 

He shouldn’t be hard, he wasn’t enjoying this, but he couldn’t help himself as he rutted into his hands, seeking friction. 

_ God _ , Castiel was fucked up.

Luke grabbed the back of Castiel’s head and began to fuck in and out of his mouth without warning, and Castiel made a choked gurgling sound that elicited a laugh from behind him.

“Such a good little slut,” Luke moaned out again after a while, and he finally stopped just as the edges of Castiel’s vision started to turn black. “Gonna fuck you now, stand up.”

Castiel collapsed on the ground, sucking in breath after breath even though it stung his throat. He shook his head and curled into a ball, whimpers escaping his raw lips on their own accord.

He could almost hear Luke roll his eyes. “What a wimp, can’t even handle this dick,” Luke crouched down between Castiel and the bed, and Castiel backed away until the rope tying him to the bed was taut and cutting off circulation to his foot.

“Guess I’ll have to punish you, hmm? No lube, no prep, no nothing, just me fucking in and out of your hole until you bleed and cry my name-“

The door slammed open. Castiel let out a cry and covered his head with his shaking arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don’t hate me?


	12. you don’t have to run, i know what you’ve been through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to make it clear, Luke is my version of Lucifer :)

“What the actual  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing, Luke?” Dean roared, charging at Luke and Alastair. He landed one good punch before Luke started laughing and Alastair pulled him back.

Dean twisted as he landed on top of Alastair on the bed, trying to get away.

“He’s a rich boy, he can take it,” Luke snarled, pulling his boxers back up over his ass. “He’s such a good slut, Dean, can’t tell me you don’t wanna tap that ass.”

Dean kicked Luke in the back of the knee at the same time he threw an elbow into Alastair’s side. He ran at Luke and grabbed his shirt, bunching it up in his fists as he glared daggers into those eyes that were the wrong shade of blue.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Dean said through his teeth, overly aware that Castiel was still whimpering and trying to get away. “Look what you did to him. He’s not going to just  _ recover _ from this! You can’t just go around raping people!”

Luke smiled like the fucking psychopath he was and Dean tightened his grip on Luke’s shirt, knuckles whitening. “Get out!”

Alastair put a hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean whirled around, taking Luke’s upper body with him. Luke let out a cry of pain, and Dean was tempted to laugh.

“Let him go, Dean-o. We’ll leave,” Alastair said softly, and Dean snickered.

“ _ You _ don’t get to talk to me, fucker. Stay the hell away from my house.”

Alastair gulped and nodded. Dean let Luke go, and he collapsed to the ground. 

“Quit being so selfish, Dean. You can share that ass,” Luke said, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was talking about Cas or himself, but either way, he was going to  _ end  _ both Luke and Alastair.

“Out!” Dean yelled, and he internally winced as Cas flinched and rolled himself into a smaller ball. 

Alastair and Luke complied, glaring at Dean the whole way out the door. As soon as they were in the hallway, Dean closed the door behind them and leaned against it, locking it. 

Dean let his gaze fall softly on Cas, who was rocking himself back and forth as his lips moved, saying something Dean couldn’t hear. 

“Man, I’m so sorry, Cas. I shouldn’t’a left you alone,” Dean said quietly, wandering over to his nearly bare closet to get a shirt for Cas.

Cas didn’t say anything in response, he just stayed looking at nothing, seemingly in his own world.

Dean grabbed his softest flannel button up, because he knew from experience having a T-shirt on after an endeavor like that was suffocating at best and panic attack inducing at worst. 

“Are you hurt at all, Cas?” Dean asked, kneeling down and putting a hesitant hand on Cas’ shoulder. Castiel flinched away from the touch, and Dean pursed his lips. “C’mon, let’s get you in some clothes.”

Cas looked up at that, eyes that perfect shade of blue and glistening with tears. He allowed Dean to help him out of the fetal position and wrestle him onto the bed. Dean murmured gentle sayings the whole time, things he wished someone had said to  _ him _ . 

“I’m gonna check you for wounds, ‘kay?” Dean declared softly, crouching in front of Cas, and Cas nodded absently. Dean began by putting his pointer finger under Castiel’s chin and moving it, looking for bruises.

He moved on to Castiel’s torso, quickly but methodically checking for injuries like he had done for himself so many times before, all the while whispering comforting words until Cas seemed to return to himself, surprising Dean with a coherent sentence.

“My throat hurts,” Cas said hoarsely, bringing a hand up to his neck, tears welling up in his eyes again. Dean nodded profusely, getting up and spinning in a circle for a second before leaning back down in front of Cas. 

“Want me to get you something to drink? It’ll help soothe your throat,” Dean said quietly, watching as Castiel’s eyes widened. Dean had begun to slowly untie the restraints binding Castiel’s hands together when Cas’ hand flicked out and held onto Dean’s wrist, weak and barely-there but firm nonetheless.

“Please stay,” Castiel whispered, and then his eyes flitted around the room and his breathing sped up.

Dean put a hand on Cas’ cheek, gently forcing him to look Dean in the eyes. “I’m not goin’ anywhere ‘till ya want me to, ‘kay? Put this shirt on and lay down for me, alright? I’m just gonna go to the door,” Dean laid the flannel shirt on Cas’ lap and motioned towards the door, where Cas’ eyes darted to immediately.

Dean felt Cas’ grip tighten before his hand was gone, reaching for the shirt, leaving a cold spot on Dean’s wrist in its absence. Dean used the moment to sprint to the door, unlocking it and cracking it open, yelling “Sam!”

He heard Sam’s door open and the careful tread of Sam’s footsteps, which usually sounded like a drunk giant that was seasick. Dean opened his door just enough to see Sam’s lanky body in the hall.

“C’n you go make some tea, please?” Dean asked, glancing over his shoulder at Cas, who now had unbuttoned flannel covering his shoulders and was staring at a floorboard. 

Sam inhaled deeply. “S-sure, Dee,” he said quietly, but he ran down the hall and down the stairs before Dean could ask what was wrong. 

“He was in here too,” Cas said quietly, eyes unmoving from the floorboard he found interesting. “They were gonna-“ Castiel sucked in a breath, and Dean’s heart broke as he clenched and unclenched his fist to keep from hitting something. “-both of us.”

Dean closed his eyes. This could  _ not _ be happening.

_ Again _ .

Dean didn’t know how much time had passed when there was a knock at the door. He walked over and opened it enough to see Sam, holding a steaming mug. 

“Come in, Sammy,” Dean said softly, opening the door wide enough for his brother to shuffle through, before closing and locking it again.

Sam sniffled as he handed Cas the mug, which Castiel only took after Sam nudged his knuckle with the burning cup. 

Dean made the executive decision that they all needed to spend some time together. 

_ The three musketeers.  _

“Sammy, lay down on the bed,” Dean said, voice harder than he meant it and Sam flinched, looking over at him fearfully. “Please,” Dean added, softer this time, because Dean had always made sure to be the one person Sam didn’t have to be afraid of.

Sam relaxed minutely and did as he was told, wrapping himself in a thin blanket.

“Cas, take a sip of your tea, buddy,” Dean coaxed, lifting Cas’ hands to his face. Cas took a hesitant sip, face contorting as the hot liquid made its way into his mouth, and Dean accidently watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as Cas swallowed.

Dean shook his head to clear his mind. “I’m going to lay down next to Sam, can you lay down after me?”

Cas glanced at him and nodded, barely a movement of his head.

Dean crawled into bed next to Sam and put his arm around the younger Winchester, resting Sam’s long haired head on his chest. Sam cuddled into him and sniffled, clinging to Dean like a lifeline.

Dean looked at Castiel and gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He wasn’t going to do anything unsavory; he wasn’t Luke or Alastair or John or Crowley. He was just Dean, here to help with gentle touches and soothing words.

Castiel also wouldn’t be in the position he was in had Dean not kidnapped him, but Dean pushed the thought away from his mind.

Castiel hesitated before taking another sip from the mug, setting it down on the nightstand next to Dean’s copy of the lyrics  _ Hey Jude _ , the only thing he could read aloud with no mistakes.

Cas’ eyes never left Dean’s as he laid down carefully, mirroring what Sam was doing, curling up into Dean’s side. He closed his eyes and let out a tiny puff of a sigh, and Dean thought it was adorable.

He gently stroked both boys’ heads, running his fingers soothingly over their hair. Sam’s breathing evened out first, and Dean watched as Castiel’s eyes flew open more than once, looking around fearfully only to realize he was safe now, with Dean.

Cas’ breathing soon became the same pace as Sam’s, and Dean sighed, rubbing his hand up and down each of their arms one more time.

He began singing himself a lullaby, ‘cause no one had been there for him when Luke and Alastair had done something similar to him. 

“ _ Hey Jude _ ,” Dean whisper-sang, voice choked up with tears and he closed his eyes, forcing two salty drops of water down his cheeks and onto the heads of the two boys sleeping in his arms. “ _ Don’t make it bad- _ “

Dean let out a small strangled sob and decided that was enough singing for the night. 

He was better at comforting others, after all. Dean didn’t deserve to be comforted.

**Author's Note:**

> updates Wednesdays and Saturdays! :)


End file.
